A Winner Is Two! Midou Ban!
by Khellan Rafe
Summary: Entry for A Winner Is Two: A Survivalist Is You! tournament hosted by avatarjk137. Get Some.
1. Introducing the Genius of Battles

Shinjuku, Tokyo is a sprawling, metropolitan landscape that provides a home for millions of people. These homes range from honest to goodness houses, apartments, condominiums, duplexes, triplexes, back alleys, freeway overpasses, covered waterways, the Limitless Fortress, and many others. However, there are only two individuals that call a Subaru 360 home. This 'home' was currently parked in one of the small green areas of Shinjuku. The only occupant still sleeping there was about to have another in a long string of rude awakenings.

"WAKE UP, GINJI!" This shout was accompanied by a blonde man groggily blinking the sleep from his eyes flying through the air, and landing headfirst into a small pond. After a brief electrical surge in the water, visible from the sparks dancing on the surface, the blond resurfaced spluttering and trying to regain his breath. Slowly making his way back to shore, Ginji watched Ban on the shore of the pond picking out some fish that were floating atop the water.

"Ban-chan! Why do you always wake me up like that?! And put those fish back! They're not ours!" Ginji protested after dragging himself halfway out of the water.

Ban looked over at his partner, careful not to dump his armload of fish (or 'breakfast' as he preferred to call it) and said caustically, "Oh, have I upset the Prince's sleepy-time once more? Oh, dear! So unfortunate that the day began without his permission." At Ginji's reddening expression, Ban scowled, "You already know why I wake you up unpleasantly all the time! You won't wake up with anything less! Now get some breakfast from the pond. I started a fire before I hucked you in."

Frowning in his petulant, kiddy way, Ginji repeated, "But they're not our fish! We can't just take them!"

Rolling his eyes at his partner's naivety, Ban replied, "Ginji, they're not doing anyone good floating around dead. Besides, why let your handiwork go to waste?"

Ginji's eyes widened considerably at that, and he protested most vehemently, "MY handiwork? Ban, you threw me in knowing what was going to happen! It's your fault they're dead!"

Turning away from the blond, Ban simply shrugged his shoulders, "Whatever. Takes two to tango. Now get some breakfast! We got a long day of advertising ahead of us!"

Opening his mouth to protest again, Ginji closed it with a sigh. Sometimes, his best friend could be so… controversial.

********************************

Paul, owner of the Honky Tonk Bar, sighed contentedly as he read his newspaper. It was an early edition of tomorrows Shinjuku Daily, something he got delivered special every night thanks to a contact he'd made years ago. Paul was a man who prided himself on knowing as much as possible about the goings-on of his city, and was rarely out of the loop. His tranquil mood was brought to an abrupt halt as two figures came barging into through his door, with a familiar greeting of, "Yo!"

Scrunching his face into his most common annoyed expression he turned to the two freeloading recovery service members and said shortly, "No. Get out."

Growling slightly, Ban slammed his hand onto the counter of the small restaurant-bar, and said lowly, "We've spent the whole day trying to find a job, alright?! The least you can do is hear us out before you start telling us to leave!"

Scowling now, Paul slammed his own hand onto the counter and proclaimed, "No! Get out!" Before the intense staring match could get out of hand, Ginji interposed himself sheepishly between the two.

"Sorry Paul, but we really have had a long da—" Well, he tried to, before Ban shoved him forcefully underneath the counter.

"Shut up Eel! The Get Backers don't grovel!" He resumed staring and growling at Paul, who did the same thing right back. Before they were interrupted again.

Ban felt a tingling on the hand holding Ginji before he heard the blond shout, "Ban! You're so MEAN!" After that he was reintroduced to the feel of electrocution, first hand (so to speak).

After Ginji was satisfied with a twitching Ban lying on the ground, Paul spoke again, "Well, I guess if your day's been that bad, I could treat you to a pizza."

Instantly recovered, Ban put his arm around Ginji and grinned happily, "Wonderful! A Honky Tonk Special it is!"

Glaring from underneath his shades, Paul made himself clearer, "For Ginji ONLY. I don't serve rude customers!"

Sagging in defeat, Ban was close to using an Evil Eye on Paul for being so stingy when a cheerful feminine voice rang out, "Never fear, Ban-kun! Natsumi will serve you!" Ban lit up once again, clapping his hands in front of his shining eyes before she added, "And for only half the usual price!" This caused Ban to once more sag in defeat.

Before things could get heated again, the door bell jingled softly, admitting a suit-wearing man in sunglasses. His gaze (presumably) landed on Ban immediately after a cursory inspection of the Honky Tonk. In an emotionless, businesslike voice, the man spoke, "Midou Ban. You have been invited to participate in a fighting tournament, called A Survivalist Is You. The tournament will be held at an undisclosed time and location, transportation provided by BORED, Inc. We'll pick you up whenever we feel like it."

With that the man turned and walked from the restaurant, leaving a rather stunned foursome simply staring after him. Usually when something unexpected and probably troublesome happened, it wasn't quite so… obvious. "What the hell was that about? Who did you piss off now?" This from Paul, raising an eyebrow archly at Ban.

Sufficiently distracted from his growling stomach, Ban's eyes narrowed into a serious expression, "Good question. Seems like this BORED, Inc. company is supposed to be putting the thing on. They're providing transportation, and it's all we have to go on. Paul, you mind if I—" Ban was interrupted by the door bell jingling once more.

The four friends turned to the door to see the same suited man from a moment ago standing there, same emotionless face and sunglasses, "I'm here to pick you up."

After a hefty round of sweat drops and face faults, Ban was recovered enough to ask a question, "Who the hell are you? And why should I be in this stupid contest anyway?"

The man responded quickly, "My name is Anonymous Thug 142, but most people call me Chuck. You _will_ participate in this tournament because it's mandatory once you've been invited. Also, I'm told there will be a hefty prize."

At the last sentence, Ban's face went from confrontational and angry to curious, "Prize, eh? What kinda prize?" Now his tone went sarcastic, "I get to live, or something equally ridiculous?"

Again, Chuck replied quickly, "Yes, you'll keep your life," while Ban was in mid eye-roll, Chuck added, "And gain ten million US dollars. From each BORED member."

As if he'd been there the entire time, Ban was right next to Anonymous Thug 142, tapping his foot impatiently, "Well, I thought you were here to pick me up? Let's go!"

Nodding shortly, but not curtly because that cost extra, Chuck turned for the door and began walking, Ban following closely, grinning like a madman. Before they could get out the door, a certain electric eel called out, "Ban!"

Turning an intent, deadly serious gaze onto his partner, Ban waited patiently for Ginji to continue. At his best friend's look, Ginji rethought his words of caution and said instead, "Good luck. Don't die." Unusually for the blonde, his face and tone were totally sober and serious.

Eyes seeming to turn to the slit pupils of a snake for a moment, the B in Get Backers gave a feral grin in response. Then he was out the door.

********************************

After a short ride in a long limo, windows so dark Ban couldn't see out of them, Chuck climbed out with purple-eyed man in tow. Looking around briefly, Ban quickly realized they were on the black tarmac of a private airport, and one that had a jet ready to take off. "This is your transportation to the tournament's location. You'll find sleeping quarters and a fully stocked pantry inside. Please get in so we can get a move on." Apparently Ban himself was the only thing keeping the jet grounded. With a smirk, the young man climbed the steps to plane and entered a lavishly furnished cabin, complete with cute stewardess.

"Oh, you must be Midou-san! Please make yourself comfortable, and let me know if you need anything at all!" Gushed Cute Stewardess 14.

Grinning fully now, Ban plopped himself into a La-Z-Boy recliner, and asked jovially, "Well how 'bout some food, for starters? What ya got?"

Smiling back at the retrieval agent, the BORED attendant said sweetly, "Anything you could possibly want, sir! What can I get you?"

Thinking for a minute, Ban replied, "How about a pizza, with alfredo instead of marinara, pepperoni, jalapeno, sausage, Canadian bacon, and black olives, with an Alaskan Amber to wash it down?"

Still smiling sweetly, C.S. 14 nodded and said, "Of course, Midou-san! Coming right up!"

Somewhat surprised, Ban watched her leave the main cabin and enter a more forward compartment. By the time she came back with a steaming pizza and a frosty pint of beer. Practically salivating, the Genius of Battles dug in almost as soon as the food was laid out on a coffee table bolted to the floor in front of him. In about two minutes flat, the food was gone and the garbage bin was chugging the last of the beer, slamming it to the table with a satisfied sigh when he finished.

The stewardess was looking at him with an expression of utter shock, to which Ban smirked and said, "Never seen anyone eat that fast, have ya?"

Shaking herself briefly, she replied, "No, I just find it amazing you managed to eat all of it before passing out from the knockout agent."

"Drugged?!" Ban exclaimed, trying to shoot to his feet but getting only halfway there before collapsing onto the floor.

Struggling to hang onto his consciousness, he just managed to hear, "Of course! Standard on all BORED airline food unless specified otherwise. Have a nice nap!" Her sickly sweet smile was the last thing Ban saw as he slipped into darkness.

********************************

Groggily, purple eyes fluttered open and stayed half lidded. Some of the drugs were still in his system, and what he was lying on was way too grassy to be in a plane. Struggling to his feet, he made it after a few minutes, taking in his very different surroundings.

On the edge of a forest meadow, roughly twenty feet around, Midou Ban tried to get a grip on the situation. Through his drug-addled mind, he tried to understand what was happening. How he had gone from a plane in Tokyo to a forest in God-knows-where. How he'd managed to get suckered into this mess in the first place!

Oh yeah. A lot of money.

Dammit.


	2. Evil Eyes, Evil Spirit

The sun was shining, the forest was alive with life, and in the distance you could just make out the crashing of waves. There was a faint salty smell to the air as well, also bespeaking of the ocean close at hand. From the top of a modest outcropping of rock, one man could make out the sight of an infinite body of water. Truly, a magnificent vista.

These were his words, upon sight of such natural splendor, "Wow… that's so lame." This less-than-appreciative perspective issued forth from one purple-eyed man, dressed in a flowing white button-up and dark slacks. His hair was like nothing so much as a sea urchin, and his eyes were mostly hidden under round, purple sunglasses. He'd come to this land, Grand Cross Isle, nearly a day before, and had set up a modicum of shelter for himself after the drugs he'd mistakenly taken had completely worn off.

After a light breakfast of nothing, he'd set off to explore his strange new surroundings. What he'd found had done little for his already bad mood. He had managed to scrounge some berries and mushrooms he thought weren't poisonous, but only time would tell if he was correct in his assumptions. His explorations had also yielded something else: footprints. He was following those prints when he caught sight of the ocean behind him, in the direction he'd come. For whatever reason, the person who'd made them was traveling farther inland.

Midou Ban wanted to know why.

So here he was, trekking through an island wilderness probably crawling with all manner of things that wouldn't think twice to eat him, as well as several other people in the same situation that would think nothing of killing him. And would then let things eat him. "So lame…" the urchin-haired fighter repeated as he turned from the ocean, pushing farther into the forest and the mountain looming at its center.

_Now wouldn't that be THE most stereotypical hideout for_—Ban's inner monologue, and nearly his head, were cut short by an ornately crafted sword flying through the air. Quick reflexes and his battle-hardened senses were the only things to save the B of the Get Backers. Tracing the flight path of the sword, Ban saw a man roughly his own age, white haired and blue eyed, staring him down. At least, he was attempting to.

Pushing his glasses nonchalantly back into place, purple lenses met ice blue orbs of determination. Right away, Ban could tell something was different about this man. He wasn't overconfident, though he seemed perfectly at ease picking a fight with someone he had no prior knowledge of. That sword didn't look light, so he must be somewhat strong to be able to throw it like he had. His clothes, though not armored as far as Ban could tell, fit him comfortably, and wouldn't get in his way.

Ban caught sightof his mystery opponent's right hand just then, and wondered, _The Hell! What's wrong with him?!_ His hand was nothing human, not even robotic. The Genius of Battles could tell a robotic hand from something… _else_, after fighting Fudou. Whatever this man was, Ban was certain he wasn't entirely human.

That suited him just fine. Humans were too predictable, anyway.

Smirking at this arrogant man before him, Midou Ban took his stance, relaxed and completely at ease. "The name's Midou Ban. I can only assume you're here for the same reason I am." He wasn't expecting a response, and truthfully didn't want one. It was easier to fight nameless faces than real people; you could be more ruthless, less worried about ending a life.

Surprisingly, he got a reply, "I'm called Nero. Do you have any weapons?"

Shrugging and raising his hands to chest level, Ban replied easily, "Just these."

His eyes were drawn to Nero's left hand as it dipped into his jacket, withdrawing a large over-under revolver, as the white-haired man said regretfully, "Too bad."

As he took aim, Nero was puzzled to see the spiky-haired man across from him show his teeth, before saying, "Not really."

Just before Nero could get the Get Backer sighted, Ban simply disappeared from the Devil Bringer's field of vision. Eyes widening in alarm, the veteran of many demon battles ducked down and dove to his right, using his arm to quickly springboard himself back to his feet. He was already staring at the spot he'd just vacated, ready to fire when his opponent showed himself. For a tense few seconds, Nero waited, straining his senses for any clue as to the whereabouts of his vanishing competition.

_Was that speed, or some kind of trick to get away? Not even Dante's that fast, there's no way this guy could pull off something like that,_ Nero thought to himself nervously. If there were people here stronger than Dante, the young Demon slayer stood no chance. Senses still stretched to the breaking point, Nero caught no sign of where his opponent might be. Until he heard his voice, unearthly and right behind him, "Too slow."

Spinning on his heel, Blue Rose held ready, Nero fired his first shot before he even saw the young urchin head. There was no one standing where the half demon had put his bullet, but a sound off to the left clued him in. Firing again, he heard no flesh ripping from hot lead, but the Devil Bringer didn't stop moving. He made a quick sprint for his sword, table hopping over to the Red Queen. Hefting it easily in his left hand, keeping the Blue Rose up and ready, he was surprised to see his opponent step from the shadows directly in front of him, completely unconcerned with the retrieval of the Red Queen.

Pushing his glasses up again, Ban said easily, "That's some speed there. It'd be a real hassle if you could do that over long distances, or all the time."

Gritting his teeth, Nero Put his sword and gun away, then drew forth a briefcase carved with otherworldly runes and a demonic face set in the middle. Narrowing his eyes, the retrieval specialist braced himself for whatever might come from this ominous case. The demon slayer across from Ban lifted his suitcase, face staring directly at the purple eyed man across from him, intent on blasting him to Hell. "Pandora! Lend me your strength!" After that invocation, the suitcase ceased to be, in it's place leaving a bazooka aimed directly for one Midou Ban. Before the faster of the two could start moving, the rocket was sailing through the air right for him.

The impact was explosive, sending a shockwave hundreds of yards in all directions, and incinerating anything in a ten foot radius. Nero himself was nearly toppled by the concussive force of his own attack, saved only by jamming the still-bazooka into the ground in front of him, hunching behind it to protect himself from lethal shrapnel. When the dust settled, the Devil Bringer saw no one standing in the crater his Pandora had created. The fight apparently settled, he turned to leave.

"Now where do you think you're going?" Stiffening, Nero turned slowly, hardly believing what he just heard. His opponent was human! There was no scent of demon, and no way a mortal could withstand such a blast from close range. The reality of what Nero saw far surpassed anything his imagination could have fathomed, as he took in what he thought was his enemy.

Midou Ban was barely recognizable as human, with his hair completely burned from his skull, half his torso missing, and his eyes melted from the intense heat, sockets empty and oozing fluid. His skin was charred all over his body, and Nero could see the white of bone on his left side, along with his left arm. The demon slayer muttered in disbelief, "It's not possible. You should be dead! Anyone would be dead from those wounds!" He was shouting by the end, unable to comprehend anything with the ability to stand after taking such damage.

Much less smirking, as Ban was doing with blackened lips, "Well, it's not as hard as it looks. Let me show you." Without hesitation, Nero dropped Pandora and drew his other sword, Yamato. He needed the most powerful weapon in his arsenal, and that meant Vergil's sword was the way to go. Not being one to just sit back and wait for his opponent, Nero charged at Ban with an intensely determined expression. Grinning madly, the Get backer opened his arms as if to embrace the charging Devil Bringer.

Screaming his frustration at such a move, Nero thrust his sword straight into his infuriating enemy's heart, going for a one-hit kill. He didn't expect Ban to still be standing, and he certainly didn't expect him to grab his arm with the unshakable grip of a man far stronger than the Devil Bringer. Nero couldn't get away, couldn't even move as he looked into his opponents' mad, gleaming eyes, and asked in a terrified little voice, "What the Hell are you?!"

Opening his mouth as if to reply, Nero was once again surprised and shaken to see Ban's maw continue opening far past what should have been possible. His mouth was growing, teeth sharpening, but still his eyes remained visible, as if telling Nero that no matter what happened, he would still be watching. Just as Nero feared he would be irrevocably lost, swallowed by whatever power this man possessed, he was standing alone in the forest. The Red Queen was stuck in the ground where he'd first thrown it, aiming for the purple eyed contestant before their fight had started. Everything was like it was before Pandora had fired it's rocket, before Nero had nearly been… been…

"Snake Bite!" Then there was pain, more pain than the young man had ever experienced before, right in the middle of his back. God, it felt like Hellfire was burning a hole straight into him! Then there was nothing below the level of his shoulder blades, and he was falling. He hit the ground hard, too shaken to even try and catch himself before the forest floor swallowed him. He tried to get a look at his back, at what that man had done to him, and thought he caught a faint hint of white. _God, is that my spine?! Did he just rip out my f***ing SPINE!?_

"You bastard! That f***ing _hurt_!" The Devil Bringer was fairly certain he would heal from this, although he'd honestly never been hurt so badly.

Ban moved to stand over the young man's head, looking down at him with a neutral expression. Pushing his glasses up, Ban replied, "During the hypnosis I put you under, you showed me how fast and strong you were, what your weapons could do. It was either paralyze you or kill you. This you could possibly heal from. Death isn't something you can fight." With that, Ban turned to walk away. He didn't get three steps before he heard a pistol come out of it's holster, and was moving before the shot rang out.

Pivoting to his right, Ban used all his speed to get right next to Nero's gun hand. Reaching out, he took hold of his opponent's arm, and crushed it with all the considerable gripping strength he had. He was rewarded with another cry of pain from his silver-haired enemy, and a dropped gun. Standing, he delivered a powerful kick to the paralyzed man's head, effectively knocking him out.

Looking down at his fallen enemy, Ban narrowed his eyes in thought, _If I hadn't used the Jagan right off the bat…_ Shaking his head to clear it of those thoughts, he turned away from the defeated Nero and continued walking towards the island's center, and the split mountain in the middle. He was sure that's where Nero had been going, and he still needed to know why. That would have been his most pressing concern, if not for the soft sound of fabric rustling behind him. Turning back, he was just in time to see the man whose spine he'd torn in two get to his feet, and take up the second sword he'd used once again.

"Aah, it feels so nice to be moving around again. It's been a long time…" Ban was shocked, not only by the fact that Nero was apparently up and about again, but that there seemed to be no residual damage to his body. Not even the arm he'd crushed seemed affected. As he stood staring, Nero turned his way again, "I suppose I've got you to thank, for putting his mind under so much stress with that eye of yours. Please, allow me to introduce myself: the name's Vergil, though I'm wearing Nero's appearance. Feels like I was attached to his soul for centuries!"

Not dropping his guard a bit, Ban carefully replied, "Well, happy to help, I guess. I take it you don't feel much like continuing Nero's fight?" Hopefully, the Genius of Battles wouldn't have to put his strength to the test again so soon. He'd already used the Evil Eye on Nero's body, and that's what mattered in this case. No more illusions to buy time and gather information, which he desperately need on this new personality.

Unfortunately Vergil didn't see things that way, as he showed Ban a very predatory grin, and said, "No such luck for you, Midou Ban. I need to stretch my legs, after so long bottled up." When Vergil charged, the Get Backer wasn't taken by surprise, prepared as he was. He was surprised, however, when the swordsman took to the air, and came down with a powerful slash aimed at Ban's head. Though he dodged, the attack caused a massive shockwave, taking him off balance and nearly knocking him to the ground.

Seeing his opponent's lack of equilibrium, Vergil used his teleportation technique to come at Ban on his left side. As if in slow motion, the retrieval specialist began a dive to his right, and almost made it unscathed. Yamato missed the killing blow, but scored a long, shallow cut on the Get Backer's left torso. Gritting his teeth, Ban braced himself for the next go round.

Smiling in pleasure now, Vergil said appraisingly, "My, you are a quick one. To be able to dodge my attack after I teleported to you, that is most impressive. I suppose I'll need to go all out to slice you up." In his mind, the half demon continued his monologue, _Seeing as how Mundus is no longer affecting me in this new body, I can use my own Devil Trigger._

As Vergil was preparing to unleash Yamato's and his own full potential, he heard his opponent start speaking, "Guess I'll have to test out that new attack sooner than expected, then." Flexing his left hand into a claw, Ban raised it up to chest level, clearly inviting the possessor of Nero's body. Raising his sword with a grin, the white haired man used his Devil Trigger in conjunction with Yamato, releasing a flash of light that quickly faded.

In Nero's place, there now stood a blue, demonic humanoid shape, wearing a sheathed sword attached to his left arm. Raising that arm to grasp the hilt with his right, Vergil spoke, though there was no movement from the hideous mask his face had become, "How does it look, Midou Ban? Your death, I mean."

Showing teeth now, Ban readied himself for a charge, "Akabane's scarier. He doesn't even have to transform."

Grinning underneath the mask, Vergil took one step forward, planting his right foot down before unsheathing his sword so quickly Ban nearly had his head taken off by the visible wave of force coming his way, "Judgment Cut." With those words, the trees directly behind the violet eyed fighter started their ponderous way to the ground. From his newly crouched position, Ban didn't wait one heartbeat before he tore across the forest floor, covering the fifteen feet separating himself and Vergil in a split second.

Ban courteously gave his opponent the name of the attack about to hit him, as he thrust his left hand straight for Vergil's skull, "Snake Kill!" Midou's fingertips drove into the mask like railroad spikes, piercing skin with fingernails suddenly sharp as swords. The Devil Triggered Vergil was lifted off his feet by the power of Ban's attack, flying back about half a foot into a tree, head first. But the Get Backer didn't stop pushing forward, continuing to force his hand through the mask until it shattered under the pressure. After that, there was nothing to stop Ban from crushing his enemy's skull like a ripe melon.

Instead, he quickly adjusted his grip, drew back his arm, and slammed Vergil's now-unmasked head into the tree he was leaning against. Repeatedly.

When Vergil dropped his sword, Ban stopped hurting the tree. His opponent, for now, was beyond pain. His headache after regaining consciousness, however, was a different story. "No need to kill you if I can beat the Hell out of you." That said, Ban released the again-unconscious body of Nero, or Vergil, or whoever. This time, he was not recalled to battle when he walked away.


	3. Death's Master

Ban Midou was not, in any way, a naturally unhappy person. Some things brought melancholy, like Himiko, some things were nostalgic, like Infinite Fortress. Few things made him truly unhappy, and he'd just discovered one more thing to add to that short list: Grand Cross Island. One damn fight so far in the days he'd been wandering the unchanging landscape of this part of the island. Constantly short on food and water, never able to get a restful night's sleep because of all the ambient animal and nature noise. And now, _now_, it was freaking raining buckets on top of all that!

So Ban was unhappy, and in an increasingly foul mood as he crouched in a mostly covered area of the deciduous forest he found himself in. The broad leaves of the trees surrounding him managed to mitigate most of the increasingly violent rain, though they did little for the wind howling through the branches. It wouldn't be long, the Get Backer thought sourly, until even that meager protection vanished as the monsoon grew in ferocity. _Damn Island. Damn tournament, damn everything!_ Right now, the only thing Ban wanted more than the bare minimum of necessities for survival was to find someone and beat the living hell out of them. This time, he wouldn't stop there, oh no. He'd leave his opponent drowning in a pool of his or her own blood, looking up into his savagely grinning face as he watched the life drain from their eyes.

In a moment of clarity sometime later, the young man would reflect on his current thoughts as being the byproduct of his miserable surroundings. _Amazing how such a relatively short time of discomfort can bring out the worst in humanity._ Now, however, the worst in him was crying out for blood. That cry was about to be answered.

***************

"Fuck this fucking place and it's stupid fucking lame ass—" The former Master of Death, known as Gig, kept his monologue going long after Vitali, the cleric at his side, stopped listening. Such profanity as Gig was now divesting into the afternoon air was beneath the notice of one such as Vitali the Ethereal, after all. Until such time as he was addressed personally, of course, "—Damn cook! Couldn't even make a fucking decent meal, so now I'm in an even fucking WORSE fucking mood—" Throughout his tirade, the teenage-looking boy was swinging a golf club at whatever was in reach, prompting Vitali's distance from his companion.

Interrupting in a seemingly unperturbed voice, the healer in question said, "Gig, it's hardly my fault I can't light a fire in this ungodly rain. There's no dry wood to be found anywhere, in case you hadn't noticed." Instead of the desired effect of shutting the little former tyrant's mouth, Vitali's words created an even more unfavorable stream of swearing.

"Yeah? YEAH!? So why the fuck are we even fucking here, huh?! Can't even start a damn fire, that should be your fucking damned SPECIALTY, Vitali! Screw all that worthless crap you call 'healing', I want a goddamned motherfucking fire with a goddamned hotpod stew—"

Interrupting his companion once again, Vitali's voice came out much harder, and something most unexpected along with that, "Gig, would you kindly shut the _hell up_!" The last two words came out in nearly a shout, far enough out of character for Vitali that Gig did, briefly, shut his mouth.

Only to open it moments later with a grumbled, "Fine, then. See if I care. Starve us both, why don't ya?" After that small comment, there was indeed silence for some time. Until, of course, the attack.

***************

Ban had picked up the swearing and shouting from only a few paces away, though he was unintentionally hidden enough not to warrant a passing glance as the two Contestants trudged unknowingly by. Grinning the devil's own grin, he rose silently to his feet (not that silence was necessary in the midst of a monsoon) and began to follow his new quarry. Two people, both male, one slightly taller than the other. The tall one had long hair and dark hair, wearing some kind of goofy hat. The shorter one was… wearing an even goofier hat. _These guys are wimps if I've ever seen 'em._ Ban, in his currently bloodthirsty state, wasn't observing the way both walked with assured, confident strides, or the way neither man had spoken since he'd caught sight of them. In hindsight, an obvious, near-fatal mistake.

As he drawer and prepared to rush the duo, the taller of the two glanced over at his companion, speaking quietly enough that Ban didn't hear, but obviously loud enough for his comrade. At the smaller one's answering grin, a sadistic one at that, Ban knew he'd been found out. Of course, by this point he was only a few strides away, already aiming a punch at the shorter man. As his attack swung down, the shorter of the two turned and intercepted his blow with one open hand, catching the fist, though he was driven back a half step by the strength of that one punch. Ban saw his newfound opponent's eyes widen slightly, before he discarded the urchin-haired mans hand and jumped back, gaining some distance.

_Damn, just a kid. I wanted to kill a damned kid!_ The GetBacker was a bit sick to his stomach after that realization, but he quickly composed himself. He couldn't afford to make any more mistakes now that the battle was joined. Then, all thoughts of mercy were once more driven from his mind, "Back off, Vitali! This guy's just the distraction I need right now. Hopefully he lasts longer than those other punks!"

Gritting his teeth, Ban responded with his own insult, "What, you been picking fights with toddlers? Can't see you beating up anything too much more challenging." He could see that his words had the desired effect on his opponent, as he started immediately screaming obscenities and waving his golf club around threateningly.

Hearing a soft sigh from the small boy's companion, Ban also picked up a faint, "You shouldn't have said that…"

Then the boy was charging, golf club held high, and the Genius of Battles found himself somewhat pressed by the frenzied attack. A high slash was easily ducked under, but the backswing was near instantaneous, almost taking the glasses clean off Ban's face before he could complete his backstab. A dozen more wild swings of the club, and the GetBacker had had his fill of being the piñata to Gig's blind-folded pre-teen. Catching the club in his right hand, Ban lashed out with his left, forcing his opponent to back off or take a mean left hook. Gig, wisely, decided to back off, leaving his golf club behind. This move, while saving one pretty face for the moment, left a very well-designed bludgeoning weapon in Ban's hands.

Grinning widely again, 'ol Urchin Head brought his new club to bear, watching the irritation play over his opponent's face. With a cry of, "Fore!" Ban advanced on Gig with his own golf club assault. Though the silver-haired teen was a former Master of Death and no stranger to fighting, Ban's superior reach and speed was giving him a hard time.

"Ow. Ow, ow, ow, OW! Damnit, that's _enough_!" After several direct hits with the club, Gig was losing what little patience he had, and his rage was beginning to boil over. So much so, that his dormant powers once more began to awaken. _Heheh, that's more like it. Let's see if this punk can keep up with me!_ Once again, Grand Cross Isle had some of its innate energy sucked away, absorbed into a former Master of Death. Completely unbeknownst to Ban, whose eyes were blind to this transformation.

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere that the GetBacker could feel, however, as Gig absorbed the energy he needed to materialize a scythe. Before the appearance of said weapon, Ban was the one to back off, gaining space and some time to think as his opponent stood before him, smiling wickedly and holding a scythe just as wicked looking. "Neat trick, kid. Where'd that sickle come from?" Trying to get his opponent talking, to buy more time, as Ban decided what might be the best tactic for victory against this suddenly puzzling opponent.

Keeping his grin, Gig was more than happy to answer the fool across from him, "This 'sickle' is a manifestation of my will, and the power I can absorb from everything around me. Done talking? Good." It seemed the little bastard wasn't in any mood to give Ban the time he wanted, but that was fine. He'd fought 'weapons of will' before, hell, he'd broken every single one of them. He could do so again.

At least, that's what he figured, but now it was all he could do to evade the curved edge of that wicked blade, with no thought of countering in his mind. Then, even dodging was impossible as the little bastard's speed kept increasing, now delivering shallow slashes all over Ban's torso and arms, as he tried to block the strikes with his flesh. Gig had obviously tapped some hidden power, increasing his speed and, probably, his strength. _Well, two can play at that game._

And so, Ban leapt as far back as he could, beginning his chant while airborne, "Until this cursed fate is spent," a lithe landing, as he stood and continued, "Is the one who houses Asclepius." Gig was charging at the GetBacker, eyes wild as he readied his scythe, "Feed, with your fangs of poison!" The scythe swung down, a vicious overhead chop, "Snake Bite!" Ban's hand raced to intercept the deadly blade of the Master's weapon, meeting it head on, holding it steady as both contestants arms shook with the impact. Then… a horrible cracking sound, as the iron of Gig's will was sundered by a something more indomitable, and a hand that felt more like five fangs sank into his chest and burst from his back, spraying blood.

Gagging, the Master of Death was flung from his opponent, to thump onto the soft, wet ground of the forest floor. There was no coming back from that blow, Gig knew. Shredded his heart right to pieces, chopped his spine in half, not to mention his lungs. Choking on his own blood, Gig had time for one last thought before darkness took him, _Shoulda never gave up my damn club…_

***************

Staring in shock and horror at his friend's lifeless corpse, Vitali's eyes tracked back to his killer, who'd lit a cigarette, and now blew out a smoky mouthful of air. Pushing his glasses up, the man turned to Vitali, "What was his name? I didn't get a chance to ask."

Slightly surprised, the cleric gave answer, "Gig. His name was… Gig."

Taking in another lungful, Ban continued looking into the grief ravaged face of Vitali, Gig's companion, "So, you after some revenge?"

Slowly, the cleric shook his head, "No. I couldn't beat you now if I wanted to. Gig… he chose poorly." Surprised again by his own coldness towards the matter of his friend's death, Vitali turned away. "Do as you will."

Exhaling again, the urchin haired man yelled at the retreating figure, "My name's Midou Ban. Come looking for me if ya change your mind." Then he too, walked away.

Both left a corpse in their wake.


	4. Get Smokey

Generally speaking, Midou Ban was not a man who regretted his actions. If he'd done something, or allowed something to happen, there was always a reason. Very few times were his reasons proven erroneous, or simply weren't good enough to justify whatever action was taken. The death of his latest opponent…

"WHOOHOO!"

…was no exception.

It's a special feeling when, after being forced to walk for an extended period of time, one finds transportation. Not just any transportation, either, but the freakin FUN kind. Ban, after walking across this damn island for longer than he cared to think about, finally had some wheels. It didn't have anything on his Lady Bug, but when it's an ATV or nothing, there's no question about what the answer is. _If I run into that doctor again, I'll have to thank him before I kick his ass._

Following the sounds of the ocean, which were never very distant on Grand Cross Isle, the ATV-riding contestant was trying to get to the beach for a little dune riding, and maybe even some R&R, since few places were as conducive to such things as a beach. On his way there, shortly before arriving, in fact, he ran into another ATV rider. The two men caught sight of each other at the same time, and likewise came to a halt at the same time. Ban was looking at a man of indeterminate age, confusing as it was for someone with such youthful features to have white hair. The other man, regardless of age, was in good shape, well muscled and sitting easily on his ride. His white, long sleeved vest was open, and held many cigars of seemingly the same make, with two of the same held in his mouth. A rather large jutte and blue pants completed the man's dress, though his feet were shrouded in smoke, so who the hell knew what his choice of footwear was.

As the white haired man took in Ban's appearance in much the same manner, 'ol Urchin Head opened his mouth, "So you want a fight, or what?"

Scoffing at the notion, Smoker responded, "Depends on where you got the ATV. Haven't heard of anyone beating an Enforcer except that Robotnik fella. You manage to beat him?"

Shrugging, Ban replied, "Nah, he traded me this ATV so I'd leave him alone. Said he didn't want a fight. Who the hell are you, anyway?"

Taking a puff off the dual stogies in his mouth, the Marine replied, "Commodore Smoker. You're Midou Ban, unless I'm mistaken. Currently undefeated, with two victories and one kill."

Narrowing his eyes, Ban's voice was dangerous when he said, "Well, aren't you well informed."

"I'm an Enforcer, kid. It's my job to keep you contestants in line, and fighting. And if necessary, take you out." The good Commodore's stare was unwavering, but then, so was Ban's.

Until the younger man shrugged again, revving his ATV and replying, "Well, sounds like the smart thing to do would be avoiding you." Accelerating past Smoker, Ban reached out quick as a snake and grabbed the two lit cigars in the Commodore's mouth, "Like I give a damn!" Followed by an enraged yell, Ban sped through the dense jungle brush, laughing all the way to the beach. Breaking through the trees, the Get Backer took a hard right, still followed by Smoker, and sped along the beach.

For about thirty seconds.

Flipping over the handlebars of his ATV, Ban had time to glimpse the Commodore's smirk, two new cigars lit and firmly in place, and a hand holding the back of his ride. This hand was connected by a thick plume of smoke to Smoker, who was a good twenty yards back on his own three wheeler. This short look was stopped upon impact with the sandy beach, followed by a ten yard roll before Ban righted himself and was on his feet, crouched and snarling.

"Now what are you giving me that look for, huh? You took my cigars, remember?" The smirk hadn't left Smoker's face, serving to anger Ban even further.

Choosing to forgo the usual witty response, Ban took a running leap at the stationary Marine, coming down on him with a, "Snake Bite!" that was summarily blocked by the jutte now unslung from its holster. With a grunt, Smoker flung Ban to the right, back towards the jungle, and got off the Smog Hog.

Not reslinging the jutte, but putting it across his shoulders, Smoker told Ban, "Look kid, nobody's hurt yet, so why don't you just run along? The ATV stays here regardless, but you I'll let go with a warning."

Grinning, Ban replied, "To hell with that. I ain't walking across any more of this dirt pile than I have to!" Charging back into the fray, the Get Backer aimed another Snake Bite at his newest opponent, unsurprised when Smoker blocked it. Bringing his left hand to bear, watching the Commodore's gaze shift, he yelled, "Snake Kill!" His left hand plunged into Smoker's chest, but surprisingly felt no resistance, like he was hitting air. When he looked at Smoker's calm eyes, Ban immediately tried to pull away, but couldn't. His hand was stuck fast.

Unable to get any distance from his opponent, Ban blocked the close range hits from jutte and fist as best he could, but was soon taking more hits than he was blocking. In desperation, the young man lifted Smoker off his feet and tried slamming him into the sand. This plan succeeded as far as getting Smoker to release him, but he just dissipated into smoke and reformed himself a few feet away, prompting a quick jump backwards from Ban. Distance gained, he thought furiously on how he could defeat someone seemingly made of smoke.

Putting on some speed, Ban got behind the surprised Marine, sending a kick flying through the back of his head before he could turn around. Staying mobile and out of the Commodore's line of sight, the Get Backer continued his lightning fast attacks, punching and kicking at every opportunity. However, he was doing no real damage, and could watch as the holes and chunks missing from his opponent's body simply grew back. As his latest punch landed, Smoker simply dissolved his body, moving some feet away before coalescing into himself. His gaze on Ban was unwavering and expectant.

_Any way I slice it, physical attacks won't work on this guy. He's got to have a weakness, though. I just need to find it. I need to think! I need to… yeah…_ Smiling, Ban stood straight, a few yards from where Smoker himself was standing, waiting for the next move. "So what have you got for me now, kid? Or should I just end it for ya?"

Staring right back into the Marine's no nonsense eyes, Ban's reply was easy, "Well, I don't feel like fighting you anymore. So I'll just let you fight yourself." With that, the Get Backer vanished, replaced by an exact replica of Smoker himself. Surprised, Smoker was caught off guard by the sudden cloning, and subsequent attack performed by said clone with a smoky fist. This of course simply passed through the Commodore, who himself followed up with a jutte swing after a few steps.

On contact with the seastone-tipped jutte, the other Smoker fell to the ground, unconscious. Looking into the brush, the real one called out, "Come out, Midou! I'm done playing with your little puppet!" Before the last word had left Smoker's mouth, two more of himself stepped out of the jungle, followed by another two, then a single copy of himself. Gritting his teeth, the Commodore extended his jutte arm towards the first pair, hitting the one to the right square in the forehead and dropping him cold. One after another, the real Commodore took his copies down quickly and efficiently, blocking jutte strikes when needed and hitting back even harder.

In a matter of a couple of minutes, only the Commodore, the Real Deal if you will, was left standing. Not breathing hard in the least, he glared around, waiting for another copy to spring from the bushes. Surprisingly, the next thing he saw was Ban, emerging from the jungle with a jutte exactly like his. He could even make out the slight discoloration of seastone at the tip, something he would certainly have to keep away from. It wasn't just a single Ban, however, but five that came out from the brush, all but two brandishing their own jutte. _What the hell's going on here? I don't remember copying being a power of his—wait, the Jagan! This is an illusion!_

Shouldering his jutte, Smoker bellowed, "Game's up, Midou! I'm not some schmuck you can dick around with some cheap tricks. I know you can create illusions, and none of this crap's real!"

Smirking, all five Ban's said at the same time, "You sure about that, Commodore? 'Cause if your mind believes it, even on a subconscious level, it'll still affect you. Trust me; you're not the first guy who's mocked this 'cheap trick'."

Considering the words of his opponent, Smoker swore in frustration and blocked the first jutte strike, allowing a punch from another copy to go through his torso and counterattacking in kind. Shoving away the jutte wielder, the Marine followed the Ban he'd punched, finishing with a shot to the jugular from his weapon that would leave the copy down for the count. Swinging to the left to catch a jutte strike with his own, he kicked out to the right to intercept an incoming Ban before he could connect to Smoker with another jutte. Unfortunately, not even a logia-type has eyes in the back of their head (unless that's their devil's fruit power), and the last jutte-using Ban, the one Smoker had initially pushed away, got a hit in across the Commodore's back. Stumbling forward, Smoker rolled with the hit, coming up and spinning to block the follow up strike he knew was coming.

It wasn't coming.

There were no Ban's in sight, except the one leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette that was almost done with. Gritting his teeth, Smoker glared back at the straight faced, relaxed contestant, "You finally done playing around?"

Taking a last drag from the smoke, Ban flicked it away and exhaled, then said calmly, "No one's playing around here, Commodore, unless it's you. I'm not the one who's been staring off into space for the last minute, after all. Why, you even dropped this," reaching behind the tree, Ban withdrew Smoker's jutte, "and I was kind enough to pick it up for you."

Eyes widening, Smoker checked his person, but sure enough there was no jutte to be found but the one Ban held. Teeth grinding, Smoker growled out, "You should return it, like a good boy. Then I won't have to get angry."

Eyebrows raised in mock surprise, Ban replied, "You want me to give it back? But if I do that," Ban's expression suddenly went from mocking to sinister, "how am I gonna beat you?"

_No way! He couldn't have figured it out!_ Smoker was keeping a straight face on the outside (meaning, his teeth were still grinding and his scowl was still in place), but this could be a major setback. _If he has, this is gonna be a tough fight from now on. He's fast, so I might not see the first strike com—_This is precisely what Ban was counting on, as he used all his speed to close with the Commodore and land a hit with the jutte. Even now that he was expecting this speed, it was difficult for the Commodore to dodge a hit from a few yards away, and his luck seemed to decrease with every swing Ban took. After the third swing was successfully dodged, Smoker was grazed across his midsection as he twisted, which sapped enough of his strength to slow him. This in turn opened up an opportunity for Ban to land a solid hit, something he took immediate advantage of.

Quickly reversing his grip on the jutte, Ban thrust the tip at Smoker's exposed midsection, scoring a hit and dropping the Commodore after a few moments of immobility. Keeping the weapon where it was, and the pressure on, Ban put Smoker on his back. Smiling down in a friendly manner, the Get Backer said simply, "Let's talk, Commodore."

Usually, Smoker would have spit in the face of anyone taking that tone with him, saying those words, but as it was fatigue is a very powerful thing. Especially the fatigue experienced when one is under the influence of seastone and in the possession of a devil's fruit ability. "First of all," began the Get Backer, getting comfortable by sitting cross-legged next to Smoker, "you said you were an Enforcer. Any more of ya kicking around?"

Snarling (tiredly), the commodore replied, "Why the fuck should I tell you?"

Appearing to think, Ban replied slowly, "Well, I guess it's either that, or I spend five minutes trying to make you talk. Then I'll probably rip out your throat and watch you bleed to death before I jam this jutte into your chest and nail you to the beach. But, I guess company loyalty and all that is a pretty strong motivator to die, right?"

Under normal circumstances, Smoker wouldn't have even considered talking, even under threat of torture and death. However, this whole setup stank from the beginning, and as far as he was concerned BORED could get bent. "I'm a Marine, not a freakin company man. There are six Enforcers, including me. Other than that, I can really only tell you their names. We're not well acquainted."

Nodding, Ban replied, "Alright, we'll get to that and physical descriptions later. How many people I gotta mow down to get outta here?"

"When I left HQ, I think there was something like twelve or a baker's dozen still alive. Some of those were in fights, so it could be as few as eight, including you."

"That few already, huh? Good. Less work for me. How do I get into one of those outpost buildings I keep seeing? I'm guessing there's food and fuel in em." This last point of interest was more pressing than the rest, since in Ban's mind the more ground he could cover with the ATV the faster he could get this whole thing over with.

Smoker was less than pleased by this question. Thinking quickly, he replied, "You don't. Enforcers and BORED members only. The security setup for those buildings recognizes faces, and anyone not in the database ends up with bullet holes. Even if you can dodge bullets and manage to get to the door, you'd need to pass a retinal scan to get in. Again, if you're not in the database, bad things happen."

Tsk-ing at Smoker's reply, Ban said sadly, "Now, Commodore, lets not get to lying. I've personally knocked on the doors of two of those buildings. I didn't even have to dodge bullets to get there. I also didn't see any retinal scanning devices. So how about you tell me what the real deal is?"

Cursing under his breath, Smoker said in frustration, "Inside my vest, my left. See the keycard? That's how you get in." The Commodore was thinking, just now, he'd probably have to test the defenses of the Split Mountain HQ. Maybe the alarm wasn't sensitive enough to pick up smoke in the air ducts. Before he could do that, however, Ban got physical descriptions and names of every Enforcer and contestant Smoker knew, or knew of. Satisfied, Ban prepared himself to leave.

Grinning in victory, Ban said to the Marine, "Well, you've been a great help, Commodore. So much help, in fact, that I'm not gonna kill you! I will, however, take your weapon, in case you decide to get froggy with me again. Night night!" With that, Ban delivered a ringing blow to Smoker's temple, putting him out for the count. Getting up and dusting himself off, the Get Backer got back on his ATV and set off for the last outpost he'd seen. _Maybe there'll be pizza? No drugs, hopefully…_


	5. Heavy Metal

Anonymous Thug 142 was enjoying his patrol of the upper reaches of Split Mountain immensely, even taking into account the fact that the shields were still down after a half hour. There was wildlife to shoot at even this high up, so he wasn't bored, and his fellow Anonymous Thugs were keeping to themselves as always, so he didn't have to worry about forfeiting some of his pay on unnecessary speaking. BORED was incredibly tight-fisted with personnel wages, with as much money as they had to spend on their various schemes and plans of dominion. Even with that small drawback, Chuck had never enjoyed a job as he enjoyed working for BORED. The bureaucracy was second to none, something any peon should be able to appreciate, and the amount of red tape one had to cut through to get anything done was, by extension, quite immense. As a former bureaucrat himself, Chuck could greatly appreciate that type of thing.

Aside from the seemingly endless list of things one's pay could be docked for, the only other part of his job that got tiresome was the constant threat of death from just about everywhere. This was especially true for his current assignment, A Winner is Two: A Survivalist is You! If it wasn't the contestants after his neck, it was a crazy Enforcer, or a pissed off executive, or one of their more homicidal henchmen, and if all else failed, he was sure something would come up.

"Attention all patrol staff!" Sighing, Chuck resigned himself to 'something' coming up right then, "The shield around the island will be down for maintenance indefinitely. Do not be alarmed, and continue your patrols. Do not report back to base unless you have experience fighting demons. That is all."

Glancing at his fellow patrolmen and women, Chuck saw that everyone heard the _real_ transmission from HQ, "Attention all patrol staff! We're getting the fuck out of here, but transport space is limited so make sure no contestants get here before we leave! Also, if you can fight your past whatever big nasty we've pissed off today, maybe we can work something out. That is all."

As stated before, Chuck loved his job. But he wasn't hired yesterday, and he knew what Really Bad Things looked like and how to survive them. He hadn't started out as Anonymous Thug 232 six years ago and worked his way up through distinction, oh no. He'd _survived_ smarter than his contemporaries, not worked harder, and now it was time to survive again. As the ranking Anonymous Thug, he would have to take charge, too, or their bureaucratic natures wouldn't allow the others to break from their patrol, "Alright, people, you heard HQ. Does anyone here have experience fighting demons?" When no one raised their hands, or even so much as twitched, Chuck continued, "Alright then. None of us want to die, but I know we don't want to piss off anyone from above either. So, here's the plan: our patrol ends in twenty minutes, but none of us have taken lunch yet. We're gonna do that now, and after everyone has eaten, we'll each test an escape craft to ensure they are in proper working condition. Agreed?"

After nine nods in the affirmative, Chuck started to lead the way to Split Mountain. He hadn't taken more than five steps when a loud snapping noise caused him to turn back around, making him witness to a sight that would have led him to despair if BORED had been paying him to feel that particular emotion.

Two contestants, one flying through the air on a chair of some sort, and the other through a tree, had come into view at the tail end of the patrol. Before Chuck could get a good look at either one, the one in the chair raised his right hand in a fist, and that was good enough for the Thugs to scatter, Chuck included. Taking shelter behind a tree, he was only a little surprised to see what looked like superheated plasma to sail past him. _So he missed. Figures._ Taking a quick peek to the trail side of the tree, Chuck took a close look at the combatants.

The one in the chair was taking pot shots into the foliage, probably trying to locate his enemy by flushing him out with random shots from his wristbands. He was wearing some strange armor that looked like a mix between human and reptile skin, and had a machine gun mounted on the back of his chair. In addition to this equipment, Chuck spotted a lightsaber strapped to his waist along with a couple of incendiary devices, if his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The man himself looked round, with overlong legs and a bald pate, but he seemed to be trying to make up for his lack of hair with a long, bristly red mustache. _Doctor Ivo Robotnik, huh. Well shit, he's beaten two Enforcers. We've got no chance._ Robotnik seemed to be growing frustrated with his opponents' ability to remain out of sight, even in the relatively barren terrain of the mountain top, if his diminishing smile was anything to go by. Right when the bad Doctor was reaching for one of his grenados, his opponent sprang at him from behind, somehow managing to sneak around the Eggman's attentive eyes.

He couldn't escape the flying camera that helped keep the larger man aloft, as Robotnik dodged to the side and opened fire just after the spiky-haired man landed. With a burst of speed, Robotnik's opponent frustrated him again, barely avoiding the laser-like projectile. With a frustrated snarl, the Doctor called, "Stay still, damn you! I have things to do!"

Now, Anonymous Thug 142 had two options. The patrol group could withdraw, or stay and choose to help one of the contestants. In his experience, withdrawal was always a costly affair, but it was also highly unlikely that anything good would come of trying to kill one or both of these contestants. He'd recruited the spiky-haired Ban, after all, and Robotnik was a sociopath, by all accounts. So as the fighting dragged on between the two, Ban using his superior speed to confuse Robotnik about his position, and the Eggman keeping him back through his maneuverability and long-range weapons, Chuck signaled a slow retreat. Too quick and the contestants might take interest in them.

As the group slowly backed through the thin foliage, Chuck managed to see that Ban's arm was in a sling, and he was gritting his teeth against the pain of it. More disconcerting than that was the chant he was uttering, though the Anonymous Thug couldn't make out the words, he noticed that Ban's pupils were starting to become slit like a snakes. _This must be a finishing move of some kind. Hope Eggman's got something to block that with._ When Ban finished his chant, a spectral snake seemed to be winding its way around his body, and his left arm was twitching as if impatient. The patrol group was long gone by now, save for Chuck, who felt compelled to watch this titanic struggle.

*******

When Ban paused right in front of Robotnik's hover chair with an insolent smirk on his face, the doctor snarled and pointed both plasma bracers in the younger man's direction, before firing at someone who wasn't there anymore. When Ban used his blinding speed to come at the Doctor, Robotnik tried to move his chair out of the way, but it was too late. As the urchin-haired man jumped up at the ruler of Robotropolis, he thrust his left arm at the round man's chest and screamed, "Snake Kill!" When the attack hit, Ban's forward momentum rocked Robotnik backwards and off the chair, which the Get Backer pushed off of to send them both straight for one of the few trees left standing. Slamming the orange haired doctor into the thick trunk of the tree, it seemed as though Ban almost had his hand through the ridiculously tough armor from Ginger's hide when a searing pain in his left leg caused him to release his opponent.

Amazingly, Robotnik kept the presence of mind to fire one of his plasma bracers into Ban's leg, from point blank range, leaving a burnt hole you could almost fit your hand through. Ban jumped back with a yell as soon as the hit landed, and had nearly sprawled out when he landed because of the jarring pain from his leg and arm. As the doctor took a step towards the Get Backer, who was clutching his good hand around the wound and panting, some pieces of his carapace armor fell away. After two more steps, the extent of the damage Ban had done was showing more and more, as many large chunks fell to the ground from the spot where Ban's attack hit. Robotnik's focus was entirely on his opponent, so he only noticed the armor peripherally, filing it under 'address this after the fight' in his memory banks. When he was only a few steps away from Ban, the doctor raised his left arm and said, "Goodbye, Midou Ban."

Just as the plasma was fired, Ban somehow used his left leg to push off and dive to his right, toward where the hover chair had fallen. Screaming his pain and anger, Ban grabbed the machine gun from its stand, broke the welds keeping it attached to the chair and swung around firing. Robotnik was trying to scramble away from Ban's position, but he was not nearly the younger man's equal in speed. Robotnik could feel the impact of all the bullets against his armor, and some that managed to wing him or even one that hit his ear. A bullet took him in the back of his right knee, and before he could even scream in pain, another tore through his skull, ending him once and for all. Even after his death, it seemed like Robotnik could feel every bullet enter his body, twitching as it was.

*******

Robotnik started out of the waking dream with a yell, feeling his body all over for signs of injury. He almost missed the, "Just a minute," from Ban, who had lit up a cigarette across from him and was standing in front of nearly all his equipment. Even his armor was over there, and all the doctor had left after a quick inventory was a wrench and a screwdriver. Gritting his teeth, Robotnik quickly realized what the young man had done. Distracting him with the chant and his intent to attack, he'd really trapped Robotnik with his Evil Eye. Genius of Battles indeed, but the doctor had one more trick up his sleeve.

Ban smiled over at Robotnik, and then held up a mangled metal bird, "If you're thinking about using this, you already did. He attacked me when you were immobilized. Nice pet, but the personality needs work." Robotnik watched as Ban tossed it into the air, and once again nearly missed his opponent say something, "Goodbye, Doctor Robotnik." Heat in front of his face, and then blackness.

*******

Sighing, Ban tossed the plasma bracer off his wrist and took a long drag on his smoke. Exhaling, he called out, "Hey Chuck! Come here. I want to talk to you…"


	6. Dude, That's Messed Up

Groggily, Ban found himself coming back to the land of the living. Or, barring that, someone was playing a cruel joke on him in whatever the afterlife happened to be. All his previous injuries from the tournament were still firmly, and painfully, in place, as well as the setting of Grand Cross Isle. The mountain slope in front of him, leading down to the forest of the flat part of the island, and the sea beyond were all staring him right in the face. The broken cliff face behind him, where Robotnik had thrown him with a plasma blast, still contained a door set in the stone. The door was still open as well, signaling to Ban that the doctor was panicked. Gritting his teeth, the Get Backer picked himself up off the ground with a minimum of grunting.

_He fucking should be panicked. I'm gonna kill him._ Ban's thoughts, though they brought a smile to his face, were not realistic, and he knew it. His best course of action now was to admit his defeat, and find a transport of some kind off this damn island. He wasn't happy about it, but logically speaking it was his only option. _Or, I could fight and beat every last asshole on this island with a broken arm and second degree plasma burns on my chest._ Smiling to himself, the urchin-haired young man began walking into the base. Began walking, and stopped when he heard a booted foot hit the ground behind him. Turning back with a bored expression certainly not mirrored internally, he was dismayed in the extreme to see one Commodore Smoker standing at the tree line some hundred or so feet away.

The Commodore seemed just as surprised to see Ban, since he gaped and dropped one of his two cigars. Ignoring it for now, he called out, "Midou? That you?"

Cursing under his breath, Ban turned to face the man who'd broken his arm in the first place, before Robotnik splintered the bone all to hell. Smirking in false bravado, the tattered Get Backer responded, "Yeah, that's me. Shouldn't you be eating a contestant somewhere?" At the mental image, Ban's smirk grew larger.

Scowling back at the contestant in front of him, Smoker was sorely tempted to start eating. Reigning himself back from those thoughts (that wasn't his job anymore), a thought struck him, "As a matter of fact, I don't do that anymore. When your employers try and wipe you off the planet, it puts a bit of a damper on employee loyalty."

For a moment, the Commodore's words were so much gibberish to the injured Ban, but then his mind caught up with his ears. BORED had tried to kill Smoker? This could turn out to be very much in Ban's favor if he did it right. Adopting an expression of thoughtfulness, he replied, "Well, if that's the case, our goals might be in line with each other. You here to take those smug, ego-centric bastards down too?" There was almost no chance, in Ban's opinion, that if Smoker was telling the truth he would still be Enforcing. Therefore, his reaction to Ban's statement would be the deciding factor in his story.

Cracking a humorless smile, Smoker replied acidly, "That about sums it up. I've got to get my men out of her first though."

Nodding, Ban replied easily, "That's definitely a priority, but I've got a proposition for you that might be enticing enough to put that off a moment. My arm needs fixing, thanks to you, but I don't hold grudges. If you get me to a medical bay and help me take care of this, I'll lend you my power laying a whipping on BORED. You've fought me, so you know what I can bring to the table."

When Ban finished talking, Smoker was indeed considering the younger man's proposal. They were nearly face to face now, since Smoker had only briefly stopped his walk to the entrance of the HQ building, and it took the Marine only a few seconds to make his decision. He felt a tiny bit bad about the other man' arm, anyway. "Alright, Midou, that sounds like a good deal. The nearest medical bay is only a few dozen yards in, since BORED's peons usually came back from patrols with some kind of minor injury. We'll get you fixed up as much as possible, and be on our way."

Nodding, Ban followed Smoker into the base. One turn and few doors later, they were standing in the middle of a small medical bay, lined on all sides with shelves of ointments, liquids and bandages. As Smoker rummaged for something, Ban grabbed some bandages and splints from a drawer marked _Breaks_. Just before he started rewrapping his arm properly, Smoker caught his attention, "Put that shit away, Midou. This will have your arm healed in a few minutes." When Ban looked up, he saw a very strangely shaped bottle held in Smoker's hand, which he plunked down on the small table Ban had set the bandages on.

Taking a long look at the bottle, Ban read the skeletal bottles' label, _Skele-Gro, Bone-fide Results Every Time!_ Skeptical, Ban gave Smoker an odd look that clearly asked, "What the hell is this?"

Rolling his eyes, Smoker said aloud, "I thought the same thing, but one of my crew broke his leg in the rigging, doing some maintenance, and they gave me this stuff to fix him up. At the time, I still trusted them, and had the man take a swallow, which BORED assured me would do the trick. Well, as weird as it sounds, he was walking within a half hour. His break was much worse than yours."

Not feeling any need to let the Commodore know his break had worsened since, Ban gave the bottle one last look, then popped the cap and took a swallow. Hacking and coughing at the burn of the liquid and its' foul taste, he dropped the bottle and clutched his throat. The feeling subsided in a minute, but the taste remained, and much to Ban's chagrin, Smoker was laughing uproariously, saying, "That's exactly what my crewman did! Ha!" Snarling, Ban stepped up to Smoker and was about to show him exactly what happened to people that laughed at him when a stabbing, sharp pain hit his arm. Looking down to see what had got under his skin, Ban cried out and sat back down when the pain intensified a hundred-fold.

Anyone that's familiar with splinters knows that one sucks, and hurts slightly, but is otherwise just a small inconvenience. Few people are aware of what hundreds of slivers in the same general spot feel like, and Ban was just now getting educated. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he looked up at Smoker and bit out, "How long will this last?"

Mirth subsiding at the pain the other man was clearly in, the Marine responded evenly, "Took about fifteen minutes for my crewmate, but like I said, his break was worse."

Shaking his head, Ban replied grimly, "Mine got worse. Fought Robotnik after you. He fucked with my arm." Biting down on another cry, Ban climbed to his feet, "Let's go. This is nothing." Smoker was impressed with the other man's toughness, both because of the additional fight he'd undertaken and the obvious pain he was fighting through. Nodding, Smoker turned to lead the way to the docks and his ship. In a much shorter time than he expected, they had arrived.

The scene was horrific. His Marine battleship was red almost everywhere. His men were scattered across the rails, rigging and decks, cut all to pieces nearly to a man. Their heads were mounted across the ship, faces set in an expression of fear and pain, mouths open in silent, ever silent, wails of pleading. They'd been pleading for their Captain to save them; Smoker knew it like he'd known nothing else in his life. Worse, his first mate was spread-eagled between the two masts, rope tying her wrists to one or the other. Her own sword was stuck fast in her gut, and her entire face had been removed, leaving a skeletal rictus in it's place.

Smoker was shaking in rage, grief and an unimaginable hatred. He'd never felt anything like this in his life, and it scared the hell out of him. As he looked at the scene of slaughter in front of him, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of every head swinging to look his way, eyes fixing on his, or the amused, "Gotcha," they uttered before his world went black.

*******

Back in the medical room, Ban looked down at his unconscious opponent while his arm kept on hurting. The Skele-Gro was working, he could tell, but it was taking its sweet time. Ban couldn't stay here though, especially if Smoker were to wake up. He'd gone far out of his way to show the man the most horrendous thing he could think of on short notice, and didn't want to see him again for some time. Smirking at the fallen Commodore, Ban pocketed his key card and muttered, "I hold grudges, Smoker. Now I gotta settle another one…"


	7. Grand Cross Finale

Stalking through the halls of BORED's ridiculously typical Secret Volcano Lair, Ban of the GetBackers was summarily decimating all opposition. It wasn't much of a challenge however; part of what was putting him in a bad mood in the first place. Nothing but weird hooded men in sleeveless shirts and what looked to be some sort of secret-service wannabes. They had guns, sure, but mundane projectile weapons weren't even in Ban's 'Top Ten Dangerous Things' list. So after mowing down a few pairs of these low-level goons, Ban was looking forward to some meatier fare as he went deeper into the Lair.

Of course, he only assumed he was going deeper into the Lair, since there was nothing like a directory map anywhere on the steel walls that he could see. Bottom line, the more people ahead of him, conscious, dead or otherwise, he took as a good sign. Stairs leading up were also his chosen path, since he was assuming the BORED execs would be taking some sort of airborne transport off this rock. He was a little worried about the dead and unconscious bodies, since someone was obviously ahead of him, but Ban was nothing if not practical: one ass to kick was as good as another.

Rounding a corner in his latest hallway of choice, the urchin haired man was pleasantly surprised to see a trio of what looked like mutated, winged monkeys halfway down the hallway. They caught sight of him, or more appropriately his stomach which was at their eye level, at the same time, and let out hideous sounding shrieks of surprise and anger. Not seeing any reason to try and talk it over, Ban charged at the knife-wielding little imps as they responded in kind. _Say what you want about looks, these little bastards aren't pushovers_, thought the GetBacker as the winged monsters actually used some strategy and fanned out, right, center and left. It was a simple strategy, but effective in close quarters, especially when the rearmost and center imp used its wings to hop up while the other two closed from either side.

Unfortunately, they were neither as strong nor as fast as Ban, as he used the opportunity presented by the center, airborne imp to sprint between the two trying for a flanking maneuver and get their backs. Targeting the one to his right, the young man didn't even bother with a Snake Bite and kicked the puzzled red creature into the wall hard enough to break an arm, crack ribs and dent steel. The other two had turned toward their target by then, but Ban was already moving to his right, trying a flanking move of his own. In a flash he'd seen the error of his ways, as the newest target thrust with its knife. Ban had no choice but to dodge farther right, where the other demon was waiting, knife already slashing for the GetBacker's gut.

Only thanks to his speed and dexterity could Ban avoid the slash, and he was right back where he'd started when the two sides had first clashed. _Damn, these guys work together like they can read each others minds! At least one's down for the_—Ban's thoughts were stopped short as the one he'd kicked into the wall began to pick itself up, albeit slowly and with obvious difficulty. Snarling in frustration, Ban took a defensive stance and thought a moment, trying to come up with a plan on short notice. Before he had much more than an inkling of something that might work, however, the three small demons were smothered in what smelled like… chocolate?

If it weren't for his previous experiences in the Limitless Fortress and on this very island, Ban may have flipped out when he saw the majority of chocolate rise up into a humanoid form, with the red imps still trapped inside. Limbs covered in chocolate pushed out against the edges of the apparition as it smiled down at them, obviously reveling in their panic and suffering. Ban took some distance from the creature and readied himself for his last Jagan, hoping it would give him some time to flee. Not a prospect he was familiar with, but he wanted no part of the fate those three demons were experiencing.

Before he made eye contact with the chocolate creature, it spoke in a sickly sweet voice, "You must be one of the latest batch of Sakyo's playthings. Midou Ban, is it?"

When the chocolate monster looked up and finally met his eyes, Ban didn't even try for the Jagan. He didn't know for sure, but his gut told him it wouldn't have any effect except to piss this creature off. He might be able to damage it with some help from Asclepius, but he wasn't entirely sure he could recite the full chant quickly enough. Ban decided he'd try and stall for time, "I don't know who Sakyo is. Care to elaborate?"

The monster raised a brow at that, and hummed softly to itself before muttering, "An ignorant plaything. A contestant, I suppose…" Before Ban could interject, the monster continued, "My name is Death by Chocolate, for obvious reasons," obvious indeed, since the flailing appendages of the imps were now absent, succumbing to the lack of whatever they needed to live inside the chocolate shell of DbC, "and you are very lucky, for reasons not so obvious. Do you have _any_ idea why you're here, Midou Ban?"

Thinking briefly about feigning ignorance, Ban decided against it. Wasn't honesty the best policy, anyway? "I came here to win a tournament. Now I'd rather get some retribution." When the demon across from him cracked a very wide, very evil grin, Ban couldn't suppress a shudder.

"Oh, you are right to fear me, no shame in that. However, I find myself of a mind to assist you with your retribution in a very small way. I assume your objectives are the ringleaders of this little circus?" At Ban's nod in the affirmative, the demon's grin became inhuman, in more ways than one, "Then I will take you to one of them, the Sakyo Valdez I mentioned a moment ago. How does that suit you?"

More wary than before, Ban's reply was measured, "Thank you for the offer, but I would be just as content with directions, Mr. Chocolate." When in doubt, best to err on the safer side of address.

When the demon began laughing, Ban feared he'd made a mistake, but DbC's words calmed him slightly, "That is agreeable, Midou Ban. Never wise to enmesh oneself too fully in a demon's care, after all. Simply turn around, take the first right, and the second left, then straight up until you arrive at the roof. Sakyo should be along shortly thereafter. He's traveling most… cautiously." The demon began laughing again, and Ban took it as his cue to make himself scarce. The GetBacker had taken hardly a step when DbC continued in a receding voice that sent more chills down his spine, "And please, Midou, when next we meet," Ban looked over his shoulder to see a puddle of chocolate seeping into the cracks of the hallway, "Call me Death…"

After his most unsettling encounter yet, Ban wasted no time in following DbC's instructions to the top. At worst, he could simply commandeer one of the escape craft and get the hell off the island. Grand Cross was becoming a bit too much for a simple recovery agent like himself to deal with, although a large part of him hoped Sakyo would be waiting when he got to the roof. Topping the last flight of stairs, he came face to face with a crew of hooded, gun-toting goons who were far more surprised to see him than he was to see them. With a leap, Ban cleared the distance between them before the five could bring their guns to bear, and it was only seconds later that the last dropped unconscious to the ground. Rising from his fighting crouch to his full height, Ban surveyed his latest handiwork with a practiced eye, catching on the masks at each goon's belt. They seemed to be filtration units of some sort, likely for toxic gases found in the volcanic air outside.

Grabbing one and checking it over for damage and operability, Ban found it to be simple enough to use. Strapping it on, he unlatched the air-tight door leading outside and calmly stepped through, shutting it behind himself with a clang. Immediately his eyes were assaulted by the toxic, volcanic vapors of the bowl of the volcano, due to the lack of coverage on his mask. It was just a mouthpiece and filtration cylinder, no eye-shield to speak of. Shouldn't matter though, since his opponent wouldn't be in any better shape than he was. Even if this Sakyo had eye protection, it would at least partially affect his vision, and that would be in Ban's favor, since he was suffering only minor discomfort.

Looking around, the young man found himself on a platform nearly as large as a football field, dotted with three gunboats and what appeared to be a VTOL jet of some kind. There was one other entrance to the roof level of the Lair straight across from Ban, on the other side of the VTOL which appeared to be generating some activity. Grinning underneath his mask, the GetBacker walked forward a few yards and jumped on top of the jet, watching his target and attendant bodyguard make their way out of the base. Sakyo was the only one wearing a mask. Crossing his arms, Ban waited for the group to catch sight of him. It didn't take long, as a particularly ugly man with…horns?...glanced up, eyes widening as he took in Ban's looming figure.

The horned man turned to his companions to shout a warning, but Ban was already in front of him, "Snake Bite!" en route to the strange person's gut. As his opponent was sent flying out over the edge of the platform, screaming like a little girl, Ban turned to his left where a bright-yellow skinned man with strange, yellow hair that looked like feathers was leveling an automatic at the GetBacker. Catching the barrel, Ban crushed it in his two-hundred kilogram-force grip, yanked it away and threw it aside before lashing out with a roundhouse to the side of the man's neck. Ban connected solidly, though was dismayed that the blue suited man's neck remained unbroken. As this man was sent rolling across the deck, Ban spun to face Sakyo, who wore a very expensive-looking suit with long, black hair and a somehow tasteful scar over his right eye. Also, one very sultry woman with blue skin and a whip-like tail, and a large burly man with patchwork skin like the bottom of a dry creek bed.

When the well-tailored man held up his hands for the Goon Squad to halt, Ban took a moment to raise an eyebrow. Not often was a fight in progress stalled by the raise of a hand, but hell, why not? The chick had a tail.

Inclining his head to Ban, the scarred man said in a rather muffled voice, "That was an impressive assault on Kaito and Daruma. You are Midou Ban, correct?"

Straightening up, Ban inclined his head slightly in greeting, "Yeah, that's me. Sakyo Valdez, I presume?"

Ban could almost see the smile underneath the businessman's filtration mask as he replied, "Yes. Well informed for a contestant, aren't you? What is it you want? Passage off the island? Your well-earned reward? Name it, Midou, and I shall provide, but I don't have time right now to discuss particulars. If you would join me?" And Sakyo motioned to the larger of the three helicopters to the left of the VTOL.

Giving Sakyo's suggestion and offer due consideration, Ban replied shortly, "Death by Chocolate says hi. Get ready for an ass whuppin." Ban barely gave Sakyo time to process this information before he went for the girl with the funky skin and funkier tail, trying to take her out at the soonest opportunity. In his experience, women were nearly _always_ the biggest problem.

This one proved to be no exception as she whipped her tail around _fast_, taking Ban in the right side under his ribcage, right in his liver. _Liver blow! Gah, if they allowed tails in boxing…_ Ban couldn't help the direction his mind took as his body went flying several yards to the left, though he managed to land, catlike, on his feet. Looking his opponents over once again, Ban was a little disappointed they were hanging back, waiting for him. The blue lady and creek bed man were both getting taller, but the man was getting wider while girly was just getting longer. Ban was guessing the girl was built for speed to ferry him into the big guy's strong, slow blows.

_Fine, then. Let's see what these bastards can do._ Ban readied himself to fight seriously, without Asclepius, which he wanted to save in case of a three on one situation. Charging into the middle of the two demons, the GetBacker went first for the woman, who hissed and backed off. Out of his peripheral, Ban caught a glimpse of the burly guy bringing the hammer down, so to speak, and waited before he threw himself aside at the last moment. The big guy's fist made an impressive dent in the steel flooring, but nothing Ban couldn't duplicate if it came to it. That almost worried the GetBacker, but he shoved the thought aside. The woman was moving gracefully his way while he was still airborne, and he could tell that he wouldn't make it back to the ground before she had him. So he did the next best thing: he bluffed.

Throwing his right fist out as if he was going to hit her from ten feet away, Ban was pleased to see her flinch back, giving him time to land and ready himself again. Smirking at the furious look she sent him, the urchin-head tossed her a wink that sent her over the edge. Shrieking like a banshee, the demoness threw herself at Ban in a flurry of blows he was hard pressed to dodge, while the big demon stayed back somewhat, out of the way. Ban noticed it's eyes following his every move as he bobbed and weaved, trying to send blows back at the bitch whenever he had an opening. _The bastard's trying to gauge my speed, see how far in advance he'll need to plan to hit me. He's slow as hell, and that could actually work for me in this instance._ Ban continued the game of cat and mouse for a minute longer before the big, strong demon began moving itself to intercept the deadly dance between contestant and bodyguard.

Ban continued to dodge as predictably and slowly as he could while maintaining an unhittable pace, and timed his move just right. As soon as he heard the big demon draw back it's arm, the GetBacker winked at the demoness once more, further fuelling her rage. As she came at him one more time, once more than she should have to keep herself out of harm's way, Ban grabbed her arm quick as a snake and hopped back, just under the big demon's haymaker to his left. That punch, more powerful than his relatively quick jab earlier, nearly took off the woman's head. As it was, her neck broke with an audibly wet crack, and she was dead before she hit the ground.

Turning his attention to the stupefied, gaping male to his left, Ban flexed his right hand and dove straight for the creature's back, shouting out, "Snake Bite!" His right hand found it's mark, digging in between the muscles of the lower back, breaking skin, and latching onto bone, then yanking back with force enough to drag the demon's spine out of the skin. Nerve endings glinted in the harsh red light from the end of the spinal cord as Ban let go, and watched the big demon collapse onto it's chest. As it howled, Ban hopped up onto it's shoulders, grabbed the back of the head, and crushed skull and brain in a killing grip. The demon ceased its movement instantly as the brainstem was mangled between the GetBacker's blood soaked fingers.

Ban looked up at the sound of rapid footfalls, just in time for a huge fist to smash into his face, knocking him away with enough strength to fling him through twenty feet of open air and send him rolling along thirty feet of steel flooring. When he finally came to a stop, the GetBacker scrambled to his feet as fast as he could; this turned out to be a very slow, woozy ordeal. Looking in the direction he'd flown from, Ban was surprised to see an anthropomorphic penguin staring him down from the body of the woman demon. He assumed it was that yellow skinned man he'd knock away before, which actually made his ridiculous hair a little less so. Snarling at Ban, the penguin spoke with tightly controlled anger, "She was my mate, fleshbag. It was a mistake to kill her, one for which you will pay dearly."

Shaking his head slightly to help clear it, Ban hissed as a throbbing pain nearly brought him back to his knees. _Probably concussed. Gonna make it pretty hard to take this guy out._ The urchin-head was having trouble formulating a real plan, or seeing straight, and it wasn't until the muscle-bound penguin started doing something with his hands that the young man thought about attacking. Gritting his teeth against the pain he knew was coming, Ban howled and charged for the tattered blue suit Kaito was garbed in. A mere step away, Ban was halted by some kind of vaguely familiar pressure before a torrent of water surged forth from the outstretched hands of the penguin, catching the GetBacker full in the front.

As soon as the water left the demon's hands, Ban brought his arms up before his face to block what he could, trying to keep his head injury from getting any worse. This was all he could manage before the water hit him like a semi truck barreling along the freeway at eighty miles per hour, blowing him away from Kaito. Against all probability, Ban managed to keep his feet under him and slid back until the torrential blast stopped. Collapsing down to his knees and gasping for breath against the pain, Ban couldn't help but notice he was a scant two feet from the edge of the platform. Grimacing after a few seconds of trying to reoxygenize his sore, tired body, Ban glanced up through his wet, hanging bangs to see Kaito advancing toward him like an avalanche: implacable and unstoppable.

Ban once again struggled valiantly to his feet, the better to meet the demonic threat stalking his way. Swaying as he finally recovered his position, the GetBacker raised his right hand, "Until this cursed fate is spent is the one who houses Asclepius." Kaito was nearly in striking range as Ban finished his chant, "Strike with your fangs of poison!" The GetBacker lunged forward to meet the giant penguin's advance as he howled, "Snake Bite!"

Kaito didn't even try to dodge, but summoned a sheet of ice to his front to block the strike. Ban was taken aback when his attack hit and shattered the ice, but went no further as the demon's own left came hurtling towards him, knocking him through the air again as it connected with his side in the same spot the nameless female demon hit. Gagging from the pain as he hit the ground on all fours, Ban could only gasp for air as he knelt, stunned by the force of the impact. Seconds later, when nothing followed up the powerful attack, the urchin-head summoned enough strength to look up at his opponent.

The demon was hunched over his gut where Ban's attack had shattered the ice armor, likewise trying to get his breath back. Kaito was wearing a shocked expression, unbelieving that such a barehanded blow could inflict that kind of damage through his ice without making contact with his body. With a weak smirk, Ban regained his feet and began the slow, painful stagger to his opponent, chanting again, "Until this cursed fate is spent is the one who houses Asclepius. Strike with your fangs of poison," and Ban raised his left hand this time, to meet the upraised right hand of Kaito, who's eyes were wide with panic, "Snake Kill!"

Ban's attack met a slightly weaker deluge of high pressure water, briefly instigating a wave of vertigo from his injury which he pushed through with iron will. His willpower carried him through to the demon, ripping through the skin and bone of Kaito's right side. The GetBacker tore through the meat of Kaito's lung, liver and then into the heart, almost the full length of Ban's arm. The demon coughed a gout of blood, a look of the most comical incredulity on his face as the patron demon of macaroni penguins slumped to the ground and died. Withdrawing his blood drenched left arm from the penguin's dead body, Ban rose from his position on one knee, where he's gone after Kaito keeled over. Panting heavily, Ban wasted no time casting around the roof for any sign of Sakyo, though his body begged him for a respite as a fresh wave of dizziness staggered him. The GetBacker didn't give in, and kept scanning the rooftop for the businessman he would punish for all the hurt he'd gone through.

When Ban found Sakyo, he was surprised to see the executive of BORED had taken refuge in a helicopter across the platform, and seemed to be readying it for take off. Snarling in frustration, Ban moved to the chopper as fast as his weary legs could take him, hoping he could catch Sakyo before he left the base. When he neared the helicopter, Sakyo looked up and saw him coming, panic in his eyes, and motioned to the console as if he was flipping a switch. Ban didn't have time to dodge as one of the rockets on the gunboat was sent hurtling his way. It impacted the ground right next to the GetBacker as he vainly attempted to escape its trajectory, and blew his flesh and blood body into tiny, wet pieces.

As the shockwave from the missile blast ended, Sakyo breathed a sigh of relief. He never thought any single contestant would be able to take down three lesser demons and Kaito! Thank God the rockets on these gunboats locked on to their targets with magic, not some fallible technological system. Taking his time, Sakyo finished the start-up sequence on the helicopter and began his take off. As he rose easily into the air, the BORED member thought it might be time to cash in his chips and leave the organization behind. He missed his simple, easily run Dark Tournament, and was getting fed up with the other's attitudes toward him. _Yes, a triumphant return to Demon World would be nice, I think._ Just as he was cresting the lip of the Scar, the oil pressure gauge for the rear stabilizer began emitting a shriek and started flashing rapidly. Sakyo tried to correct for the lack of steering, but it felt like his arms were moving like lead.

There was no time for his too-heavy arms to try and keep the bird aloft as it plummeted toward the wall of the volcanic bowl the base was set in. His last thought before the bone crushing, metal twisting impact was one of regret that BORED was such a typical evil organization, with such a typical evil hide out.

Sakyo awoke with a groan to the sound of a lighter clicking to life, and a familiar voice saying, "Just a minute." Blinking his eyes open, Sakyo found himself staring up at the menacing figure of one Midou Ban, no more worse for wear than when Sakyo had seen him take down Kaito, though he was missing his filtration mask. Then Sakyo realized they were no longer outside, but at the top of one of the stairwells leading to the rooftop helipad and VTOL launch.

The businessman was briefly confused, then managed a small smile as he lay there awaiting death, "Of course. How could I have forgotten the Jagan?"

Blowing out a mouthful of smoke, the GetBacker replied, "Dunno, but it cost you. I was promised a hefty payday for finishing this tournament though, and I'm done. So where do I collect my winnings?"

Sakyo's singular attitude towards gambling, to the point where he would literally stake his life on an outcome, allowed him a small chuckle as he continued laying there, staring up, "Down two flights, there's a rather large, very posh room reserved for the winner of the tournament being awarded his or her millions. It doesn't matter which stair you take, the room is situated between them. Go get your money."

Considering, Ban grabbed Sakyo by the front of his jacket and hauled him to his feet. At the executive's surprised look, Ban smirked and blew another gout of smoke, this time into Sakyo's face, "Lead on, big man. I wouldn't want to get there and find nothing, with you gone into the wild blue yonder." With that, Ban gave Sakyo a firm shove back towards the stairwell, which the businessman ignored completely before doing as instructed. A scant five minutes later, they were standing in the room Sakyo spoke of, standing at opposite ends of a small table holding a suitcase as average and inconspicuous as Mohamed at Catholic Mass.

Raising an incredulous eyebrow, Ban undid the clasps and checked the contents, trying to keep calm at the sight of God knew how many millions of dollars. Latching the gaudy, gold-plated case shut once more, the GetBacker hefted it over one shoulder and pulled out another cigarette, lighting it up as he turned to walk out. Watching him go, Sakyo couldn't keep an amused note out of his voice, "You're leaving me here, just like that? No completing your vengeance?"

Not pausing at the door, Ban said nonchalantly, "Look out behind you."

Eyes widening in fear, Sakyo spun around to face… nothing. Momentarily confused, Sakyo relaxed with a faint chuckle. Damn kid, trying to—

The businessman's thoughts were cut off as chocolate descended from all sides, enveloping him in its viscous sweetness, cutting off his supply of oxygen. Sakyo struggled mightily, though he knew it was futile, to try and escape his malleable prison. In seconds, his frenzied struggles had sapped most of his air, and his movements turned sluggish, weakening until he could no longer move. He needed air, his lungs were on fire, everything was going dark… tunneling… he was dying… dead…

DbC felt Sakyo die as the businessman's soul left the body, but remained trapped in the folds of demonic chocolate the demon was named for. Content for the moment, DbC turned to one of the cameras in the room, and cracked a small, evil smile as he waved, then dissipated through the cracks in the floor. _…And this little piggy went 'wee, wee, wee!' all the way to Hell…_

**AN**: There it is, Ban's triumphant last stand. Triumphant, of course, if the judges vote in my favor. Also, there will be an epilogue if I win, so don't let the drop off in Ban's story throw ya. Was gonna say something else, but I forget what it was._  
_/


End file.
